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#21
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"Howard Berkowitz" wrote in message
... In article , "Yowie" wrote: "Kreisleriana" wrote in message ... On Wed, 19 Jan 2005 10:51:02 -0500, "Irulan" yodeled: LOL! He sure looks like he's enjoying it! What does iti taste like? Jazz's mama Toxic waste with salt. LOL! If you have never tasted marmite or promite its hard to describe. Its sorta like bonox, but thicker, if that helps (probably doesn't). It doesn't help that I keep reading that as "Botox", the brand name for the injectable form of Type A botulinus toxin, the most poisonous substance known! The best way I can describe it to someone who has never tried anything like it is to get powdered beef boullion or stock, and add just enough water to make a thick paste. The taste, while not the same, will be similar in nature to vegemite, ie very salty and umami tasting (umami is the 5th taste after salty, sweet, sour and bitter. It detects protein - beef jerky and strong cheese also have a strong umami taste) I suspect that it's somewhat similar to the meat extracts and yeast extract pastes we use in microbiology -- a very stiff paste, which would be the next step after the most concentrated essence in French cooking -- glace de viande. The latter will coat a spoon when dipped in it, where the former has to be scooped out with some effort -- and is AWFUL to weigh out. It is indeed a yeast extract paste. And yes, its like tar. Vegemite goes really well with cheese and we Aussies use it to add some "zing" to things like meatloaf and rissoles. As I said before, its not really suited to American style white bread. If you don't like things like vintage cheese, strong salamis and beef jerky, don't bother. But if you do, I'd reccomend you toast some sour dough bread, give it a genourous amount of butter, and then put on the least possible amount of vegemite you are physically able to do, just enough to add a hint of colour to the bread. Eat with other savoury (high umami) things. If you like the taste, slowly increase the amount of vegemite until you get to the right level. Mixing it with the butter or margarine on a cold slice of bread or toast is also quite traditonal, as is putting a layer of vegemite on before making cheese-on-toast Where does the beer become involved? There must be beer -- isn't that the national soup of Australia? :-) Vegemite *is* beer! Just super concentrated sediments made from the spent yeast (and other beer sediments) Yowie |
#22
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"Karen" wrote in message
... "Sherry " wrote in message ... He's not just cute, he's adorable, just like his momma and daddy. Pam S. He looks like them both to me. I used to think he was a perfect mini-Joel. He is so precious. I have grandchild fever now. Sherry Yeah, but I can sure see Yowie now. Especially around the eyes. The Yowlet has my mouth and eyes. He will probably have my hair colour and wavy-ness. The rest seems to be 100% Joel, it smost noticable with his hands and feet - they are exactly like Joel's and exactly like Joel's mother's hands and feet too.. Yowie |
#23
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On Fri, 21 Jan 2005 09:28:15 +1100, "Yowie"
yodeled: Where does the beer become involved? There must be beer -- isn't that the national soup of Australia? :-) Vegemite *is* beer! Just super concentrated sediments made from the spent yeast (and other beer sediments) Yowie Aussie live on products of fermentation. Accounts for their bubbly nature. Theresa Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com |
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#25
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On Thu, 20 Jan 2005 20:00:12 -0500, Howard Berkowitz
yodeled: In article , wrote: On Fri, 21 Jan 2005 09:28:15 +1100, "Yowie" yodeled: Where does the beer become involved? There must be beer -- isn't that the national soup of Australia? :-) Vegemite *is* beer! Just super concentrated sediments made from the spent yeast (and other beer sediments) Yowie Aussie live on products of fermentation. Accounts for their bubbly nature. This is remarkably insightful. It certainly would describe the means of locomotion of a kangaroo. Far Side cartoon: Mob of kangaroos in full flight-- annoyed roo looks at goofy faced one, and scolds: "Just jump, you fool! You don't have to say 'Boing Boing Boing'" Theresa Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com |
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#27
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In article , "Yowie" wrote: http://au.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/yow...nm=97a6.jpg&.s rc=ph or http://tinyurl.com/6mbwz Yowie He's a real cutie, but the look of the vegimite kind of queased me out. I have a new great nephew btw. Suz Macmoosette =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= "People that hate cats will come back as mice in their next life." --Faith Resnick |\__/| (=':'=) (")_(") |
#28
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Howard Berkowitz wrote:
In either version, he was found sitting in his seat, mumbling "attack kangaroos. Attack kangaroos." The Defence Ministry left it in, because they actually DID want to condition the pilots not to shoot at kangaroos. Oh Gawd, Howard, that is just too funny. I'm printing it off for da family and to add to the funny pages we save up for his military oncologist. Pam S. |
#29
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SUQKRT wrote:
He's a real cutie, but the look of the vegimite kind of queased me out. I have a new great nephew btw. Suz You're right, the Yowlet, otherwise known as Cary, is totally adorable. A great nephew? Why didn't you say so before? Are you as modest as another very proud great aunt that lurks in here and posts upon occasion? ;-) Pam S. proud of her honorary grandchild. |
#30
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"Tanada" wrote in message
ink.net... Howard Berkowitz wrote: In either version, he was found sitting in his seat, mumbling "attack kangaroos. Attack kangaroos." The Defence Ministry left it in, because they actually DID want to condition the pilots not to shoot at kangaroos. Oh Gawd, Howard, that is just too funny. I'm printing it off for da family and to add to the funny pages we save up for his military oncologist. Those dang Kangaroos! Did I ever tell the story of when I was attacked by kangaroos? My father is a keen bushwalker. Very keen. Mad perhaps. My family and I know darn well never to accompany him on his bushwalks, otherwise known lovingly as "death marches" because thats what they end up being for those of us who don't own the legs of a 6'8" person (yes, my Dad is actually that tall) and isn't as fit as a mallee bull. By the time you think it would be nice to have a little break, have a snack and a drink, and perhaps replace the missing skin thats peeled off your feet, my father has only just started to warm up and there's at least another 4 hours of tramping though untracked-scrub (because my Dad suffers from "Geographic mis-alignment" otherwise known as having a total and complete lack of direction and therefore becoming hoplessly lost on many occasions). But every so often the Madness would hit and one of us would think it might be A Nice Thing To Do to go for a walk with dear old Dad. It was one of those occasions. Mum had packed me with 6 sandwiches. Not half sandwiches. 6 full sandwishes, or 12 slices of bread. She did this as a kindness, as she knew I'd need *alot* of energy that day. So off Dad and I trot, Dad in his slow and easy 6'8" lope, and me, not being quite so old as I am now, running after him because I only had the stride of a child. Eventually, thank God, we stop. Dad needs a tree to go behind. I fall to the ground, exhausted. My insanity was quickly corrected, and I realised that I was in for a whole day of physical torture. I reckon army sargeants putting recruits through Basic Training have got nothing on my Dad - but then again, he *was* an Air Force sargeant. Explains alot really. I had come to my senses and with the quick thoughts of the desperate, reached into my backpack for one of those many sandwiches I now knew I would need throughout the rest of the death march. This wasn't actually a "break" merely a potty stop, and I didn't have much time. From the perimeter of the clearing, they appeared. Grey shadows at first, but they got bolder as they got nearer, obviously being lured by the smell of my lunch A mob of eastern Grey kangaroos. And they were Hungry Dad had dissappeared for the time being, having had to find a suitable Tree to do things that Dads do that Daughters don't need to know about. I was all alone. Now as a kid, you think that wild animals are pretty neat. And the mob of 'roos were pretty neat. For a while, at least. The didn't hop at me, but rather crawled in their strange tail - and legs - tail and legs sort of crawl that only young babies can imitate. I was delighted. Skippy was coming to say hello. I was thinking perhaps I'd like to scratch them behind hte ears and maybe one could tuck me into her pouch and then I'd finallybe able to keep up the pace with Dad. And then they got closer, and they were no longer the size of Skippy, they were not wallabies (Skippy is actually a wallaby, not a roo) and they started standing up. Eastern Grey roos are not the biggest in Australia, that honour goes to the Red Kangaroo, and the adult males can stand at over 7 foot. But Eastern Greys are no midgets either, and most of them were taller than me. With childlike innocence, I thought it would be cute to feed one my sandwich. I stood up. The mob stopped. I reached out my arm and waved the remains of my first honey sandwich at the leader. Much to my amusement, the leader of the mob, a male that was taller than I, took the sandwich and politely nibbled on it in curiousity. He was pleased with the taste, and gobbled the rest down greedily. Another kangaroo hopped up to sample these heady delights I put my hand into my backpack to get the next sandwich out. I was still quite comfortable feeding the second and third 'roo my lunch. And then the mob closed in on me. And they all wanted this new yummy food called "honey sandwich" And they were going to *get* said "honey sandwich". They had seen the source of these delicacies and they all wanted a taste. Now. I was being held hostage by a mob of kangaroos and the price was as many honey sandwiches as dear old Mum had packed. At least 20 roos jostled and shoved to get to my backpack, which I had wisely abandoned seconds before. They tore it apart, spilling my water and devouring anything remotely edible (and probably a few inedioble things - 'roos aren't known for their intellectual capacities). But once the exotic delicacies that are "honey sandwiches" had run out, they looked at me menacingly. Perhaps they also had a taste for young human flesh. But hten I could hear Dad tromping back from wherever he had been, and they lazily bounced back to their Kangaroo Mafia hideout. "Wow!," he said, "Did you catch that mob of 'roos? Amazing how fearless they are 'round humans. You'd think they'd know better" The torrent of tears told Dad that I had indeed seen them although my woeful tale about my lunch being stolen wasn't entirely believed until he spotted the remains of hapless backpack. Still, I do have to thank that mob of roos for one thing. Whilst they scared the absolute bajeebers out of me, no doubt scarring me for life (I am no longer a fan of 'Skippy' for a start), they also did me one heck of a favour. Without lunch, we had to turn back. And the mob of roos that nearly ate me also saved me from another 20km of "bush bashing" with Dad. Dunno whether I should be grateful, or just very very scared. Yowie |
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